Frailty
by Moonshield
Summary: When everything you know and love is put at risk, how far will you be willing to go to protect it?


...in a time of war...

He was breathless. His heart pounded with a paramount force that rendered him deaf to the cries of the defeated that lay amass in his wake. The bloodied hands that held his swords trembled, not in fear, but contempt, and it was only this and the tender thoughts of what he must protect that drove him onward. He was nearly there, and only a thousand opportunities for death to take him lay between he and his goal.

Ahead in his path charged another of the Emperor's sentinel whom he found easily enough dispatched, as he drove his blood-stained blades into the guard's exposed throat, all the way to the hilt; the quelled man had barely time to cry out in defeat before his body convulsed and was then still. It had become almost mundane to him by this point, and as he withdrew his weapons, splattering his own face with the crimson tears of freshly spilled blood, and discarded the body with little more than an indifferent kick.

The adrenaline that cascaded through his veins powered him on with a near subhuman disregard that he would otherwise revile, but he thought only of the future that held for him promise and indulgence, and with each struggled breath he drew, he felt it plunging into darkness. Going a moment unopposed, he paused only briefly to spare concern for the others behind him.

_'Shunsui...' _He thought pensively to himself as he chanced a glance back toward the way he had come, but he'd long since lost sight of his companions. _'What of Ulquiorra and the others?'_ He had barely time to ponder any more before opposition happened upon him. Two this time, no, three. Heaving their weapons at him with a wild abandon he felt it took less than a twitch to evade.

The first one was crushed easily enough with a deep puncture to the chest; right through his corrupted heart he would have liked to think. He was disgusted to find himself watching in near pleasure as the decimated foe clapped a hand to the gushing wound in his abdomen and writhed in the accumulating pool of his own fluids to an untimely death. The second was more stubborn, and resilient; but no more than a slashed throat could easily tame; the third stood nearly paralyzed in fear at the sight of his two fallen comrades, his shaking hands hardly fit to hold a sword.

"Demon!" The man cried, pointing a trembling, and accusing finger.

In a moment when he would typically pause, disheartened, and spare the man the mercy that was commonplace to his heart, he found the flick of his wrist it took to send the man's severed head tumbling toward the floor no obstacle.

A quiet moment yet again, but only a moment.

He looked down at his hands, stained in sanguine patchwork, trembling as his mind struggled to wrap itself around what it uncharacteristically found itself able to allow them to commit. His baleful blades plummeted to the floor, rippling the surface of a still accumulating pool of blood, skewing his own remorseful reflection in its placid and vermilion surface. He closed his eyes, as they began to sting with the welling threat of tears, and dried them with the sleeve of his robe.

He could not..._he would not shed a tear on their behalf_.

Making a small, defiant sound in his throat he crouched down next to the vanquished at his feet and delicately closed the hollow eyes still agape in distress. Sighing he looked away and said a silent prayer, not only for the fallen, but for himself, and the sins he knew his now tightly clenched fists would commit before he finally, after this night, lay down the sword forever.

He could hear the panicked stirrings within the Palace, it could undoubtedly no longer be a secret that they had infiltrated, and the Emperor was surely summoning his most skilled and powerful warriors to stand between he and the opposition. It didn't matter, either he or the Emperor would die this night; he would assure it.

"Oi!" Came a short-winded voice from behind him. Startled at first he hurriedly reached for his swords and held them poised for attack in his now steadied hands, but quickly he relaxed, and was no doubt relieved when he saw the familiar face of Shunsui.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to create even a syllable; instead he gave a wordless thanks for the safety of his old friend. He studied Shunsui, who was remarkably less stained from the battle than he, but who also wore the same mask of self animosity. He could tell that he was not the only one who bore the mental scars of what had been done here tonight, and feared what was yet to happen. Though of all people to be by his side, he would never have chosen another.

Shunsui sighed, and looked into his friend's eyes knowingly. He dropped his weapons and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"You knew this wasn't going to be easy..." He said. "...and so did I."

He lowered his head, and looked away from Shunsui and studied the dried streaks of blood across his palms again. Stains, he knew, that even the rapids of time could not wash away.

"This has gone much further than any of us expected...its bigger than you...its bigger than the both of us now..." He paused, and managed a half-hearted smile. "...you're fighting for more than I am, much more. Remember that." Shunsui turned and picked up his swords, and studied them in the dim candlelight while his friend's mind began to race. He was right, this had evolved far beyond a struggle for power, and money. It had exceeded all initial expectations and become a bloody struggle for survival.

The sound of heavy, and hurried footsteps from above was more than enough to alert him back to the matter at hand.

"Come..." Shunsui spoke again, as he gave the twin blades in his grasp a rough flick; leaving a perfect scarlet arc across the nearby wood-paneled wall as his eyes traced its pattern up to the ceiling. "...we're running out of time."

With a silent nod, he hurried deeper into the belly of the beast. If it meant his death, he would keep his promise. Not only to himself. For the sake of his future. For _her_.

His heart, and mind plagued him. What had brought him this far? _...and what exactly was he fighting for anymore?_


End file.
